Not Alone
by PteraWaters
Summary: Set in season one. Amidst a tragedy unfolding, Puck calls on the guy that used to be his best friend, and Finn shows up. A story of getting through things together, oddly-placed affection, and friendship. T for language. Puck/Finn slash.
1. Act 1

_A/N: Hello, all!_

_This is a Finn/Puck slash story, so if that's not what you were looking for, that's what you've got now. There's nothing too explicit and it's mostly a tragedy piece, so I hope you're in the mood to cry. Because if you have tear ducts, you probably will. Just saying..._

_Also, special thanks to Hortense for reading over this story and offering her ever-insightful opinions!  
_

_Set in Season One, about a month after "The Power of Madonna"_

* * *

Not Alone

**Act 1**

In the day or two after it happened, Puck decided what he hated the most about it, besides the obvious, of course, was how everyone lowered their voice as soon as they saw him anywhere around. Like his ears couldn't take any fucking volume. Like he was some delicate pansy-ass who needed to be babied and like he spread around eggshells for people to walk on wherever he fucking went.

Shit.

He especially noticed it in that nurse at the hospital where they took him and his sister for "smoke inhalation", even though Puck hadn't even made it within fifty feet of the building before some cop bear-hugged and then sat on him until Sarah found him. The nurse spoke to Ms. Hudson in that low voice about "keeping an eye" and "not letting him take things too fast" and about how Puck had "lost too much."

"His mother and his pregnant girlfriend?" she'd asked Carole, and Finn's mom nodded sadly, her make-up running into the wrinkles beside her eyes as she looked over to where Puck and Finn sat together.

He still couldn't believe the dude had come. Apparently all it took to mend those burned bridges was the complete and utter destruction of the girl, the event, the damn evidence that had gotten between Puck and his best friend in the first place. All it took was a call.

* * *

"Don't," Puck began, his voice sounding strange in his ears and amidst the sirens still wailing all around him, "hang up, dude. Please, Finn."

"Puck? What's going on?" Finn had replied, crunching like he had food in his mouth. "You sound funny. Give me one good-"

"They're dead," Puck spat, cutting off all of Finn's extra, meaningless words. "Fire. At my building."

"Oh," Finn replied in a grunt, like someone had socked him in the stomach just as he tried to reply. "Fuck."

"Just..." Puck sighed, wondering how he could possibly feel so devastated and so detached all at the same time. "Be here? Be..." he choked, squeezing Sarah's hand as the EMT pushed an oxygen mask against her face. "God..."

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "In five, bro. I'll be right there."

"It's a clusterfuck," Puck warned him.

"I'm..." there was a little mumbling, and then Finn came back. "Me and Mom are out the door. Want me to stay on the line?"

"Sure," Puck nodded, practically punching the EMT when the dude tried to shove an oxygen mask in his face too. "Fuck off!"

"What?" Finn asked as the dude accosting Puck held up his hands and backed off, turning to take care of Puck's little sister again.

"Not you, Finn," Puck whispered, leaning heavily against one of the ambulance doors and trying to estimate how many seconds before his legs gave out completely. "How far out are you?" Puck hated how small his voice sounded. Even when he mumbled, Puck's voice rang large, and that was one of the many things he liked about himself. Or used to.

"Four minutes, dude," Finn replied. "My mom's driving, so we don't have to worry about me hitting another public servant."

Suddenly curious and needing the distraction from the lights and the noise and the acrid smell of burnt lives, Puck asked, "Whatever happened to that mailman guy?"

"Just a concussion," Finn insisted. "But I have to pay all his medical bills before my mom lets me drive again. Or maybe that was the judge who said that..."

"Thank god for juvie court, huh?" Puck mused, feeling everything go fuzzy around him. It was kind of nice. He wasn't even drunk and here he was, the world slipping away from him one burning, aching breath at a time.

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "So, what did you think of the song Mr. Schue picked out for us this afternoon? I thought it was kind of ... stupid. I mean, the fifties were kind of cool or whatever, like I Love Lucy or something, but the music? We might as well sing something like they had back when Shakespeare was writing musicals."

"Seriously, dude?" Puck asked, his lips curling up in defiance of how heavy the rest of his body felt. "Shakespeare?"

"He was the guy that wrote plays, right? Like Romeo and Juliet and West Side Story?"

"Has Rachel been talking to you lately?" Puck asked, pointedly not looking over at the remains of his home as he spoke to Finn, falling into the other boy's distraction willingly.

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "But she's with that Jesse kid now, so I kinda figured she'd shut up, but apparently we're team co-captains, which means I have to know everything about everything musical, like right now..."

Puck was about to reply, but Finn breathed into the phone, "Fucking hell," and he knew his friend had seen the building. He wasn't sure how it had happened, or even that it actually had happened, but then Finn was running toward him and wrapping big, long arms around Puck's shoulders and then they were both crying and collapsing to the ground.

His wet face next to Puck's and his legs awkwardly splayed all over underneath them, Finn asked, "She was...?" and Puck nodded into his friend's shoulder. "And your mom?" Another helpless nod. "And the baby?"

Puck pulled back a little to give his friend a glare that told him he was being stupid, because really, Finn Hudson needed the reminder now and then, but the question was just too difficult to answer. The baby. Quinn's baby. "Gone," his voice cracked, heavy with tears and snot. His baby. Puck hoped it was too little and too buried inside its mom to understand what had happened. He hoped Quinn hadn't been too scared after pushing Sarah out of the building and then getting trapped inside. He hoped she knew his little sister, just about _their _little sister, was safe.

Puck also hoped his mom had never woken up. She probably hadn't. She'd been taking these stupid sleeping pills because her job was all stressful or whatever. Someone had to remember to go shake her awake every morning so she could get ready for work, and more often than not, that someone was Puck. Why did he have to pick that night to go to his fight club? He hadn't been to it since Quinn moved in and he knew it was stupid, but since football had ended before Sectionals, he missed getting hit.

If he hadn't gone out, he could have done something. He could have smelled the smoke before the alarms went off. He could have woken his mom up. He could have gotten Quinn and the baby out. He could have been the one trapped inside the five-alarm apartment fire. He should have been the one who died.

Later, lying in Carole Hudson's bed with Sarah on one side of him, Finn on the other and Carole in Finn's room, Puck told his friend all of those thoughts in heavy, guilty whispers, hating the way his tears fell in lock-step with Finn's. The boy hadn't left his side since meeting him at the ambulance and now, at eight o'clock in the morning, both dead tired, they lay, holding each other, facing each other, crying quietly as Sarah slept curled up against Puck's back.

"Don't say that," Finn whispered back. "Don't even think it. Things like this...happen the way they're going to happen, dude. That's what my mom says now about my dad dying. People leave. People die. And it sucks, but it just ... is. You can't drive yourself crazy over it, dude!"

"Yeah," Puck agreed, setting his head down, half on his pillow and half on Finn's shoulder. Exhaustion settled in as Puck asked, "If everyone leaves, how can anyone ever have anyone else? I thought, with Quinn..."

Finn set his forehead against Puck's and grabbed the back of his neck not in restraint, but in comfort. His eyes dark in the dim shaded light and his breath almost cool against Puck's overheated, grief-stricken skin, Finn replied, "Yeah, bro. I thought so, too. I guess you just have to appreciate what you do have when you still have it. Learned that when I was too much of a jackass to appreciate being with Rachel."

Taking a few seconds to mull that over, Puck nodded just barely, closing his eyes, but placing his hand over Finn's on the back of his neck, trying to appreciate that even though his mom was gone and so was Quinn, he still had Finn. He still had his little sister. And she needed him to keep it together.

* * *

The lesson felt a little less clear when Puck woke up alone, the sounds of two women arguing floating to Carole's room from out in the main area of the house.

"...that little deviant! I should kill him for putting my Quinnie in that unsafe building. Where is he, Carole Hudson?"

"Mrs. Fabray!" Carole yelled back, deathly serious. "I know this is an insanely hard time, but if you think I would let you take your grief out on that boy...!"

Puck couldn't take anymore. Ten minutes later, Finn found him crouched on the bottom of the shower stall, still in Finn's borrowed pajamas, water falling down all around him. Puck couldn't have told you whether the water was too hot or too cold, but he could tell that it wasn't right. He guessed it would drown him just the same either way. Plus, he had learned soon after his father left that running water masked the sounds and sights of crying really well.

Climbing into the shower, Finn didn't take off his pajamas either. He didn't turn off the water. He just knelt in front of Puck and wrapped those long arms around him again. "It's not your fault," Finn insisted. "It's not, Puck."

Somewhere in his brain, Puck knew his friend was telling the truth. And in that split second, a wave of gratefulness rushed through him, making him return Finn's hug and realize that Quinn's mom was wrong and it was just a horrible accident. He thought he heard something about oil paints and turpentine and an explosion and not up to code and six deaths total, seven if you counted the fetus, which Puck did, once he figured out what the word meant.

Then, Finn was crying along with Puck, one arm around the other boy's shoulders and their heads leaning together. "She was awesome, wasn't she?"

"Yeah."

A few seconds later, Puck couldn't remember whether he had asked the question or answered it, since he was consumed with thoughts of Quinn, especially her smile. "Really awesome."

"And your mom..." Finn sighed, hugging Puck closer, which made him feel like he couldn't breathe but that was okay because his mom was gone and breathing didn't matter anymore. "She was always nice to me, man."

"Yeah," Puck replied. "She was ..." Gone. Dead. Pfft. Ashes. "...Mom." Dust.

"I'm so sorry, Puck," Finn whispered in his ear, wet lips close to Puck's shower-slick skin.

Letting his head drop forward, Puck replied, "Thanks," hugging the other boy closer like he was a fucking life preserver in this shit storm. "I don't... Fuck. I don't know what I'd do without you, Hudson. Thanks for being my friend again."

Finn nodded and met Puck's eyes, blinking rapidly in the shower stream as they stared at one another. The moment grew tense and meaningful and Puck didn't want it to mean anything, because at that point anything was too much and so he did the only thing he could think of - he kissed Finn gently on the lips.

The other boy made a startled little noise, but he didn't pull away like Puck expected (needed) him to. Instead, Finn let the kiss go on and on, pressing back against Puck's lips just enough to make Puck sure it was intentional. It was stupid and fucked up, but Puck didn't care anymore. All that mattered was that Finn was warm, and cared about him, and was still alive.

After a while and a few deep, urgent kisses, Finn pulled back and turned off the water, whispering, "Let's get you dried off, bro."

"Yeah," Puck agreed, his voice croaking. He let Finn take care of him, drying him off and dressing him without shame in some of Finn's clean basketball clothes - a t-shirt and gym shorts, because those would actually fit, as opposed to his fucking special-order big-and-tall jeans. Finn wore something similar, Puck thought maybe so Finn wouldn't make him feel underdressed by comparison. When they were dressed, Finn folded him into another hug and a few more kisses, hands lightly cupping Puck's jaw as their lips met.

Pulling back, Finn asked, "Do you want to go out into the living room? Mom has Sarah watching cartoons. She's been waiting for you to wake up." Eyes ducking downward, Finn confessed, "We've all been waiting."

It was only later, curled around his little sister and ignoring the TV, that Puck realized Finn was being way too cool about the kissing. Shouldn't he be doing his stupid Finn freak out about now? When he'd first started seeing Quinn, he'd freaked out about kissing her for the first time, until Puck got him to calm down and understand that while kissing a girl as pretty and as popular as Quinn was awesome, it wasn't something to freak out about. Finn was his boy and he'd built up the guy's confidence one freak out at a time, even while teasing him about things like his grades and joining glee club.

Why wasn't he freaking out? Had Finn kissed some other dude already and hadn't told Puck? Had Puck done such a good job on Finn's ego that even a sexuality crisis couldn't get through to him? No, that was crap. Finn had freaked out just a month ago about sleeping with Santana.

Maybe Puck was hallucinating. Maybe Finn wasn't saying anything because there was nothing to say. Maybe all the shit that had happened in the past twelve hours had broken Puck's brain. Pretty soon he was going to start up debates with Mrs. Hudson's fichus, wasn't he?

Then why, when Finn joined the two remaining Puckermans on the couch, did the guy put both arms around Puck's shoulders and lean his big potato head against Puck's? Why did he whisper in Puck's ear, "I'm right here, bro. Not gonna leave ya." Was he just being the awesome friend that Puck didn't deserve? Or did he think he was Puck's boyfriend now? Fuck.

Just before lunch time, Carole showed a policewoman in and turned off the TV. "Guys?" she said softly. "This is detective Greenwood."

"Hey," Puck nodded, nearing to clear his throat again and having a surreal moment in which he realized that it took him about a hundred times longer than it normally did to scope out the detective and rate her on a bone-worthy scale. And then, he was caught up in trying to figure out whether to be ashamed or proud or indifferent about this personal failing, and didn't hear what the lady said. "What?"

"I'm so sorry. We've identified your mother from her dental records. She expired in the blaze."

"Tell me something I don't fucking know," he muttered, hugging Sarah tighter despite her protests.

"What about Quinn?" Finn asked, his voice still perilously close to Puck's ear. "Quinn Fabray? She was staying with the Puckermans."

Shaking her head (had she always been blonde?), the detective said, "I'm sorry, sir. We've verified her remains as well."

"What about..." Puck started, sighing to clear his thoughts, "...the baby? Is there anything I can ... bury?"

"I'm sorry," the lady said, shaking her head again. Well, damn it.

Puck buried his face in his little sister's thick, dark hair - just like his own when it grew out - and sighed. He felt perilously close to losing it again and he just wanted the stupid cop to go away. He wanted everything to be untrue. He wanted to go home.

It didn't help that, tears falling and whispering, Sarah echoed Puck's thoughts. "...home, Noah. I wanna go home!"

"I know," he replied, eyes lifting as Finn got up and showed the detective out, speaking to her in a quiet voice. How had Puck never appreciated before what a good guy his friend was? How had Puck ever made fun of that quality? How could Puck call himself a badass, sitting here, holding his sister and crying in grief? "I know."

* * *

_Two more acts yet to come this week. I hope you liked the first one, and I would really love it if you'd leave a review! Thanks!_


	2. Act 2

_A/N: So, I'm a dunce and uploaded the wrong file the first time around! Whoops! Here is Act 2, right before the season 2 kick off! (Or, you know, seven hours before) I'm so excited! My friends and I are having a pot-luck party and everything. I hope you gleeks are partying as well._

_Now, to highlight how awesome and funny the new season is going to be, some sadness and slash!_

* * *

Not Alone

Act 2

Puck's Aunt Lena came to take care of the funeral and everything, showing up at the Hudsons' front door later that afternoon and steamrolling over everything. "...can't believe I was on vacation when my sister – my only sister – shuffled off. How could she do this to me? How, Noah?"

"Fuck if I know," he muttered angrily. Aunt Lena wouldn't know real family loyalty if it bit her on the impressively rotund ass. The only reason she was here was out of concern for her image and maybe a whopping load of misplaced guilt for being away when it happened.

Puck gathered his sister up and stood in front of his Aunt, needing her to tell him what to do. She'd helped with Nana Connie's funeral two years ago, so she had to know what was going on, right? She had to.

Turns out she wasn't much more than a fucking teenager like him, at heart. He guessed her low-cut tops sold more houses than her maturity and winning attitude. "Well, come on! Where's all your stuff?"

"Lena," Carole said in that damn half-whisper that Puck was really starting to hate, "the fire..."

"Oh," she chuckled, her hazel eyes infuriatingly like Puck's. He hated being related to this woman, flippantly proffered platinum card or no. "Go get yourselves whatever you need, kids. I've got a fucking funeral to plan."

With one final roll of her eyes, Lena straightened her big hat and was out the door on ridiculous heels, trotting away again. God, Puck hoped he didn't have to live with that woman, even though she was really the only family he had, besides a few of his mother's cousins who lived in Cincinnati and probably wouldn't know him from Adam.

"So..." Carole said softly as Lena's red sports car growled away. "The mall?

* * *

"You sure your aunt won't mind you spending all this money?" Finn asked stupidly as Puck stripped of and then threw another shirt at his friend to hold until they checked out - not particularly because he liked it, but because at least it fit.

But then, he realized what Finn had asked and what it might mean - spending all of his flaky aunt's money. She did that well enough on her own. But, it wasn't his fault he didn't have all his shit anymore. Was it? "Fuck," he growled, punching the wall and making Finn flinch. "Why did this have to happen to me, dude?"

Setting down his armload of clothes on the tiny corner seat of the fitting room and approaching Puck carefully, Finn replied, "I don't know." Taking (the currently shirtless) Puck into his arms and hugging him soundly, the taller boy suggested, "Maybe I could buy you a few things? You know, chip in somehow?"

Puck looked up the few inches into his friend's eyes and felt an almost overwhelming urge to push the guy away in rage. But he didn't. Instead, all Puck could bring himself to do was snarl, "No way, dude. I already owe you too fucking much. You-"

Finn cut him off with a kiss that Puck knew was supposed to be comforting, but that he – shirtless and confused and so fucking alone – couldn't help but return with force. Finn grunted when the shorter boy slammed him against the mirror and held him there, their lips pressed and kneading together urgently. Puck tried to stay angry at his friend, he tried to kiss the guy hard and mean, stealing breath and cutting lips and clashing teeth, but as soon as Finn's hand cupped the side of his neck, Puck's rage melted away.

And then he was on the floor crying again, with an uncomfortable hard-on and no idea what the fuck he was feeling or was supposed to feel. "So fucked up, bro."

"I don't think so," Finn whispered, sitting beside Puck on the scratchy department store carpet, but facing the other way and leaning his head against Puck's drawn-up knees.

"Yeah, sure," Puck scoffed, pulling over the first shirt he could reach and putting it on before wiping the tears from his face. "Let's just pick out a week's worth and then go find a suit.

"What d'you need a suit for?" Finn asked, watching as Puck shuffled over and started sorting through the clothes that fit.

"The..." Puck choked, wishing his boy was smarter or something so he wouldn't have to say it out-

"Oh," Finn nodded in understanding. "Yeah. The suit's important. Do we know when you need it by?"

"ASAP," Puck muttered, throwing one plaid button down shirt in the keep pile and another in the leave pile. "We Jews don't leave the..." Puck sighed again, unwilling to say the word "body" out loud, at least where his mother was concerned. "_Soon_. And Quinn's..."

"Yeah," Finn nodded sadly. "Dude! I don't have a suit that fits either. Just my dad's old sport coat. That's...I should ... to pay my respects. But we gotta find my mom and your sister before we leave this store. Otherwise they'll freak out and the last time I got lost in a store Mom paged me over the intercom and it was really embarrassing."

Nodding, Puck marveled at how weird it was that he and Finn had just been making out all hot and heavy, and now they were just talking, the same as always. It didn't make any sense. Why wasn't Hudson freaking out?

* * *

At the funeral the next day, after Sarah had fallen asleep in Lena's bedroom, Puck snagged a bottle of tequila and Finn's arm, dragging both out to the closed-in back porch. He wanted to be outside, breathe air that wasn't heavy with death and sadness, but it was fucking February, so this had to do. Puck sat down on the bench, took a big swig of the liquor, and sat back, letting his knee fall against Finn's once the dude sat down beside him.

After his third or fourth gulp, Finn took the bottle away, saying, "Quinn's thing is tomorrow. You should quit while you're still ahead, bro."

"Fuck that," Puck muttered, trying and failing to snatch the alcohol back from Finn's stupidly long orangutan arms. "And there's no way we can show our faces at the funeral. Mrs. Fabray thinks I killed her and you were the one who dropped the baby bomb."

"But..." Finn sighed. "We cared about her."

"It doesn't mean shit to Quinn's mom," Puck sighed, letting his head fall down into his hands, grateful the alcohol was actually starting to do something. Hopefully soon, he would be so out of his mind drunk that he'd forget, just for awhile, that his girls were dead.

At least his boy was still here, rubbing Puck's back with one big hand and keeping his knee pressed against Puck's. "I..." Puck sighed. "I was gonna have a family. Now all I have is Sarah."

"You have me," Finn whispered in Puck's ear, his breath hot and moist.

Puck didn't want to think about Finn's response and the alcohol kept buzzing around in his head, making everything clear and confusing at the same time. Finn was supposed to be his best friend. His bro. But if he was like family, Puck was a sick bastard for needing to kiss him. Unless he wanted to be Puck's wife or something. Puck snorted in amusement at the image of Finn, all dressed up in white and lace, towering over Rabbi Henry.

"What's so funny?" Finn asked. "I mean it, Puck. I'm with you."

"Just...nothing," he replied, leaning back with Finn's arm around his fucking shoulders.

When Finn started singing softly, Puck joined him now and then, feeling the grief of his mother's loss crest and ebb as the minutes ticked by.

_For though they may be parted  
There is still a chance that they will see  
There will be an answer  
Let it be._

* * *

"Well," Lena said later that night, after everyone but the Puckermans and Finn had left. "Sarah's asleep in my room, so I'll stay with her. I suppose I'll have to convert my den into some sort of bedroom. And the music room, too... There's the couch for tonight, Noah."

"He can stay with me," Finn offered and Puck felt his shoulders sag with relief. He hated it here. Lena was always burning this incense shit and had this yappy little dog and no TV. "At least until you get things rearranged?"

"Oh, would you?" Lena gushed. "What a darling you are!" When Lena smiled and touched Finn's arm, and Puck saw where this was headed, a flash of rage (jealousy) flashed through him.

"Great," he growled, grabbing Finn's wrist. "I'll see you, Lena. Have Sarah call me in the morning."

"Are you still drunk?" Finn asked on the way out to the car, jangling Puck's keys almost happily.

"A little," Puck confessed. "Though I wouldn't mind be drunk from now until June, to tell the truth."

"I've got a better idea," Finn insisted, taking the driver's seat of Puck's truck and watching with a grin as Puck heaved himself up into the passenger side. Puck gave his friend a raised eyebrow in question, expecting him to say something about making out. Instead, Finn said, "Halo," and took off.

* * *

"Dude! Watch that elite over there!"

"I would if this hunter would ever get off my ass!"

"Fuck!" Puck growled. "I'm dead." He hated that word. He hated saying, over and over again, that he was dead, but he was still a little reflex-slow from the alcohol and the exhaustion, so he just wasn't doing as well as normal.

"Hey, look," Finn sighed, setting down his controller, "me too. Maybe we should try again tomorrow."

"Yeah," Puck agreed, laying back on Finn's bed. "Tomorrow."

"After we crash Quinn's funeral. I mean, your kid is there, too. You've got the right to-"

Puck stood up violently and made for the door, wondering how the hell Finn had thought mentioning his ... would be a good idea. He was just gonna start crying again, which was so not cool.

"Sorry!" Finn breathed, catching Puck at the door before he could open it. "I didn't mean to upset you, bro. I just think you should take the chance to say goodbye and-"

"Shut up," Puck growled, doing the only thing he could think of and kissing Finn on the lips. No better way to shut someone up. Two seconds later, after Finn's arms wrapped around him again, Puck shoved his tongue into the other guy's mouth, needing to taste anything other than his own, acrid grief. Finn tasted like M&Ms and he smelled like Axe deodorant and he felt reassuringly solid.

Thirty seconds later, they were pushing each other down onto Finn's bed, Puck eventually ending up with his back on the mattress, all his senses clouded with Finn and the dude's heavy, but comforting weight on top of him as they kissed. Puck knew how to do this, even exhausted and sobering up, he knew how to kiss. He knew how to run his hands down to his partner's sides and swivel his hips for that extra bit of friction. He knew how to take Finn's shirt without breaking the kiss for more than a few seconds. He knew how to taunt and tease the boy's neck to get him really squirming with desire. He knew this, even though Finn was a dude. And that was comforting in its own right.

Then, pants and underwear hit the floor and everything was skin-on-skin and friction and holding on and thrusting against and no boobs, but an ass to knead desperately as he was _so close_ and then slick, sticky come between them and he still _wasn't_ there and almost crying in relief when Finn's hand wrapped around him and then ... happiness. Joy. Peace. Exhaustion. Nothing.

* * *

_So there you have it! Don't forget to review!_


	3. Act 3

**Not Alone**

Act 3

Puck woke up the first time while it was still dark out, his mouth dry and his whole body stiff and grimy. But someone else was there, behind him on the narrow bed, one long arm holding his bare chest close. Should have known his boy was gonna get clingy. Needing to turn, Puck shoved until he was on his back and Finn was sort of resting half-on him and half-off. Their legs were tangled together and Puck wondered if this was a one-time thing or not, because last night had been kind of ... good, if weird.

* * *

The second time Puck woke up, it was to the last two in a series of soft knocks and a shriek of surprise. The door closed again with a bang and Finn started, falling off the bed, his bare ass hitting the floor with a thud. Leaning over the side of the bed to grin at his friend (with benefits), Puck murmured, "Morning, dude. I think your mom saw us."

"No shit," Finn sighed, finding a pair of underwear that Puck was pretty sure _he'd_ been wearing the night before and pulling them on. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a few very loud knocks silenced him.

"Finnegan Eric Hudson! Get dressed and get out here, right now!"

Puck grinned when Finn frowned at him, his embarrassment evident in the blush all over his face and neck. And holy crap! Was that a hickey on his neck? Puck didn't remember doing that, though he did tend to get a little bite-y during sex. Or whatever the hell that was last night.

"You too, Noah Caleb Puckerman!"

Finn mouthed "Caleb?" at Puck and he shrugged before getting up. He had no idea how Carole had found out his middle name, but he wasn't about to argue with her. Not after what she'd seen and the murderous tone in her voice. Digging around in the shopping bag at the foot of Finn's bed, Puck found his new clothes and pulled on something that wasn't his funeral suit, which Finn was probably gonna make him wear again, if they went through with the 'crash-Quinn's-funeral' plan.

Out in the living room, Carole leaned against the back of the couch, biting her thumbnail and obviously waiting for them. Taking a deep breath, with a worried look on her face, she said, "Boys…" and then faltered. After two more false starts, she said, "I … I know that you two have been friends forever and I know that sometimes things like this … happen…" Finn shot an uncomfortable look over to Puck, who shrugged. He had even less idea where the lady was going with this than her son did. "But… I guess I'm just _surprised_. And you're so _young…_ And after all that's happened… But, if this is what you want… Just be safe…and," Finn looked like he was about to die of embarrassment, "I'd rather you kept clothes on while I'm around so I don't have to … but you're sixteen and … and legal, and … I love you … _both_."

Then, Carole Hudson pulled both boys into a hug that lasted about two seconds too long before she stepped back and nodded, "So, breakfast? I don't suppose either of you will be going to school today, but if I can't go to Quinn's funeral, I really have to get back to work, so I'll get some bagels going and-"

"We can handle it mom," Finn insisted, "you're going to be late if you don't leave soon."

"Well," she studied the two boy's faces for a long moment, as if assessing whether Puck would continue to ruin her son's precious innocence if she left. "Just, don't leave the kitchen in shambles. And if anyone gets … _injured_…don't be afraid or too embarrassed to call for help."

"Mom!" Finn complained, his blush flaring back to life all of a sudden. Puck supposed if he was in Carole's place, he'd be worried about his son's ass in Puck's presence, too.

"Have a good day, Mrs. H," he tried with a light, innocent smile. No need to remind her any more than usual how she had found them that morning.

"I'll…" she called as she escaped the house, "…bring home dinner. Be good."

As the two boys watched Finn's mom drive away, and almost hit a cat in the process, Puck started to chuckle. Uncontrollably.

"What?" Finn asked, hitting him on the arm as he made his way into the kitchen. "What's so funny, dude? My mom found us!"

"And gave you a sex talk!" Puck giggled gleefully, following his friend. "Or tried to!"

"Shut up, dude!" Finn complained, pulling a box of cereal out of a cupboard and setting it angrily on the counter. "I mean…" he sighed, finally looking up at Puck. Oh, here it comes, he thought. Finn was about to freak out. "I wanted to tell her about us a better way, you know?"

"Us?" Puck asked, shaking his head. "Don't …"

"Don't what?" Finn asked, looking back at Puck and taking half a step toward him.

"Don't freak out about this. Just…leave it, dude," he insisted, turning back down the hallway to gather his things and take a shower. He couldn't handle a freak out at that moment.

* * *

As Puck finished getting ready, he heard Finn talking to someone, "...us a block away? ... Yeah, that works. Thanks, Rachel … No, I know. It's just about … He's having a really hard time and … Well where's that Jesse dude? … See? So leave it ... Yeah. See you there."

"Swimfan trying to get in your pants, bro?" Puck asked, tucking in his shirt and finding his tie under the bed.

"No!" Finn insisted. "No. At least, I don't think… What do you think? I mean, she was pretty pissed when I broke up with her."

Crashing back onto the bed and sighing, Puck said, "Rachel wants you, bro. Like a fat dude wants _cake_."

"But…" Finn spluttered, sitting down next to his friend. Looking down at Puck, Finn asked, "What about…? Is this just for now?"

"Dunno," Puck whispered, pulling Finn down into a kiss. And he didn't know. He didn't want to think about a future without his mom and without Quinn and without the baby. And not thinking about the future meant he could kiss his best friend and not worry about what it might mean.

* * *

"Well, we can disguise Puck with this beard and Kurt's hat," Mercedes said, pushing the disguise at Puck despite Kurt's protest that he needed the hat to pull his outfit together. "But, Finn is more difficult. There's no one else as tall as he is."

"We could put him in Artie's chair," Mike suggested.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Artie asked, looking up and around at everyone.

"Matt and I will carry you. We can say your chair wouldn't fit in the car."

"Okay," Rachel agreed, handing Finn a pair of sunglasses and pulling him to lean down so she could wrap a big, fluffy scarf around his neck and face.

"But, we can't come in with you guys," Puck insisted. "Finn and I will wait a minute while you guys go in now. Otherwise they'll recognize us as part of the team."

"Genius," Artie nodded, taking Matt and Mike's shoulders so they could carry him between them. "We'll see you in there."

Finn sat down in the chair, looking up at him and grabbing one of Puck's hands to get his attention. "Are you okay, dude?" he asked. "I mean, this is gonna be hard for me, too. If you're not up to it, I can't drag you… I don't know if I'd go…"

"I'll take you, Finn," Puck said, getting behind the wheelchair and grabbing the handles. "We're doing this together. Giving our girl a kick-ass goodbye."

"Yeah," he nodded, and Puck could see a few darker wet spots on Rachel's scarf. "Let's do it."

Puck pushed Finn towards the church, leaning on the chair to help him keep walking forward. He wanted to go in. He wanted to say goodbye to Quinn and their baby. But he didn't want to face the reality that, just like his mom, she was really gone. He wasn't ever going to see her again. He wasn't ever going to kiss her or hold her again. He wasn't going to get to meet the baby. She was gone. Three generations of Puck's girls gone, just like that. If he was more like Finn, he would have been crying into his beard even before stepping into the church.

When he'd heard where the funeral was going to be held, Puck almost laughed. While she was alive and pregnant, a disgrace, Quinn's family wanted nothing to do with her. But now that she was dead and burned up, too damaged for anyone to see her face or her baby bump one last time, they brought her back into their family, throwing this funeral in the biggest church in Lima, filling it with expensive flowers and shit.

Everything about her parents' hypocrisy made Puck too angry to cry. So, he wheeled Finn into the church and parked him near the back, sitting next to his boy and discreetly taking his hand as everyone else got seated. The rest of the glee club sat up near the front, just a few rows back from the (open?) casket. Lena had told Puck that there was almost nothing left of his mother, so they had a closed casket at the funeral. Or, a closed pine box, because his mom wanted to be buried according to Jewish law. What the hell was sitting up front in place of Quinn's body?

"Good afternoon," a minister said from the pulpit, calling everyone's attention. He was a middle-aged guy with graying blonde hair and a black suit, and Puck hated him right off the bat. "Thank you for coming. Saying goodbye to a loved one is always difficult, but today we find ourselves in the tragic predicament of having to bid farewell to someone very young.

"Quinn Fabray was only sixteen years old when she perished three days ago. She willingly gave up her life to make sure a younger girl made it to safety, and so we honor her today not only as a tragically lost daughter and friend, but as a hero.

"As we offer her soul up to God's warm and forgiving embrace, we should keep in mind that while no one is perfect, and Quinn was guilty of a mistake or two, she was a good person and is surely looking down on us from heaven." Smiling out over the congregation, the minister paused for a moment before saying, "I'm told a few of Quinn's classmates would like to perform in her honor, and then we will hear from her parents and a few other speakers."

Tina stood up then, with Mercedes and Santana flanking her, with Kurt at the organ in the corner. Who knew that dude could play a freaking organ? The introduction lasted almost a minute, and then Tina opened her mouth, her clear, high, voice filling the church.

_Ave Maria__  
__Gratia plena__  
__Dominus tecum__  
__Benedicta tu in mulieribus__  
__Et benedictus fructus ventris_

The slow pace of the song made each word intense, especially when Santana and Mercedes layered their voices under Tina's. Puck had no idea what the song was about, but it sounded appropriately sad and beautiful. The last two months of her life, Quinn had been so sad. And so beautiful.

_Tui, Jesus__  
__Sancta Maria__  
__Mater Dei__  
__Ora pro nobis peccatoribus__  
__Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae__  
__Amen._

Puck knew he shouldn't be here. It was his fault Quinn got pregnant. It was his fault anyone ever found out that Finn wasn't the father. It was his fault he wasn't there to save her. It was his fault. All of it. And for some strange reason, only Quinn's family blamed him. Finn certainly didn't seem to, if the way he clutched Puck's hand tightly was any indication.

Fuck. Look at them. Just three days after his girlfriend died, Puck was already shacking up with someone else. It didn't really matter than he and Finn had been friends forever, and whatever was happening between them felt like it was just an extension of that. All that mattered was that Puck was a fucking idiot. And he was going to hell, even if Jews didn't believe in hell the way Quinn's parents obviously did. He deserved it. Punishment instead of reward. Maybe this thing with Finn was his punishment for all the wrongs he had done. A mixed blessing.

After the song ended, Quinn's dad got up and talked at length about her life, except for the pregnancy. He never mentioned that she'd been carrying a Puckling when she died. He wanted to rewrite history, didn't he? Remember his daughter as pure and good. Puck couldn't really blame him, except he wanted people to know he'd had a daughter, too. He wanted everyone to know that he hadn't just lost a girlfriend. He'd lost a child, and that sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. Sure, Puck had never met her, but he'd felt connected to her ever since he'd found out about Quinn's pregnancy. He'd wanted to do right by her, provide for both of them, be the father his old man had never been.

It wasn't going to happen, now.

A while later, Rachel got up and sang along with a recorded instrumental track, drawing everyone's attention to her with the first few lines, at once soft and powerful.

_Spend all your time waiting  
For that second chance  
For a break that would make it okay.  
There's always one reason  
To feel not good enough  
And it's hard at the end of the day._

Puck recognized this song and as Rachel sang, he looked around the room, wondering if everyone felt a personal connection to the lyrics, like he did. There were lots of sad faces and plenty of tears, but how many of these people had actually _known _her? Five? Ten? It couldn't have been more than that. As popular as Quinn had been, she wasn't one to keep people, even her friends, too close. When his eyes finally landed on Finn, who was curled over on himself in the wheelchair, Rachel's scarf around his face almost soaked with tears, Puck wrapped his arm around Finn's shoulders as best he could and held on. This dude was _definitely_ taking it personally.

_In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here._

Everyone was crying, even Rachel. Even Puck. He was glad for the fake beard his friends had stuck on him, because he was sure it hid every grimace and sob. He didn't mind faking tears if it let him get what he wanted, but Puck had discovered, again and again throughout his life and especially in the last three days, that real tears felt a million times worse.

_So tired of the straight line  
And everywhere you turn  
There's vultures and thieves at your back.  
And the storm keeps on twisting  
You keep on building the lie  
That you make up for all that you lack.  
Don't make no difference,  
Escaping one last time  
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, _

_Oh, this glorious sadness, _

_That brings me to my knees._

Puck felt like his throat was going to escape through his mouth and his guts would slide out all over the floor for everyone to see and Quinn would be so mad at him for ruining her funeral. It fucking sucked.

_You're in the arms of the angel.  
May you find some comfort there._

* * *

As they waited in the line to see the body (which Puck had to investigate) and give their regrets to the Fabrays (which they wouldn't do without causing a hot damn mess), Puck leaned on Finn's wheelchair, wishing he could have been the one sitting there. His legs felt nervous and wobbly, like they might give out at any moment and join his stomach on the floor. It couldn't be Quinn in that casket. He'd seen the fire take down the whole building, he'd been there. There shouldn't have been enough left. It couldn't be her.

It wasn't.

"It's a fucking dummy," Puck growled at Finn, who was trying to see over the edge of the casket from his seated position. "A damn mannequin that looks nothing like her, except for the hair. They're not even here." Before he could help himself, Puck tore off his beard and pushed himself toward Mr. Fabray. "Where are they? What did you do with my girls? Because that?" he pointed to the casket, where Finn was hopping out of his chair to grab Puck's arm. "That's not her! I have a right to say goodbye to whatever's left!"

"Easy, dude," Finn said in his ear, grabbing Puck around the chest and almost picking him up to get him away from the Fabrays.

"That was my kid in there too, you know!" It was difficult to breathe through the tears, the snot, Finn's arms around his chest, and his swollen throat, so he could yell, but he did it. They deserved that much. "I don't even care if all I can say goodbye to is a fucking box. That's _not them_!"

"Someone get this kid out of here!" Mr. Fabray shouted and Puck lashed out, trying to wring that bastard's neck.

"You didn't even want her, you dick! You kicked her out because we made one mistake. Let me see them!"

But then a meaty hand bashed into Puck's cheekbone, blinding him for a few seconds and the glee club was dragging him out of the church, Artie back in his wheelchair and Finn without his scarf, hot lips whispering into Puck's ear, "It's gonna be okay, Noah. It's okay. Calm down. Please, bro. Please!"

Sitting together on the cold pavement outside the church, like they had when Finn first found Puck outside the smoldering building, the two boys held each other, surrounded by their friends. And then, like he didn't know what else to do, Finn started singing.

_When the day is long and the night  
The night is yours alone,  
When you're sure you've had enough  
Of this life,  
Well hang on._

_Don't let yourself go  
'Cause everybody cries  
And everybody hurts,  
Sometimes._

Everyone else around Puck joined in, and there were no dry faces. Quinn might have been a bitch sometimes, but she was one of them. And Puck knew he and Finn weren't the only ones who had loved her, in some way.

_Sometimes everything is wrong  
Now it's time to sing along.  
When your day is night alone  
(Hold on, hold on)  
If you feel like letting go  
(Hold on)  
When you think you've had too much  
Of this life,  
Well hang on._

_Don't throw your hand. Oh, no,  
Don't throw your hand.  
If you feel like you're alone, no, no,  
No, you are not alone._

After whispering that last line, Finn kissed Puck, right in front of everyone, and he couldn't help but just let it happen, let himself fall into whatever the hell this was, let his friends sing to him, them letting Puck know they understood how none of it was fair and he'd lost more than anyone had in that fire (except for Mrs. Hensen, who had lost the eighteen cats that were her life) and they were there for him. Especially Finn.

When the quarterback flicked his tongue into Puck's mouth, Puck thought he heard Kurt complain, "That's not fair," but he didn't care about any of that. Everyone else was still singing, and once he pulled his mouth away from Finn's, hugging the boy to show he appreciated him, Puck let his voice join theirs. This was his time to say goodbye to Quinn, to his mother, to his baby, and this was his time to start a new life. One where he could be the guy his sister depended on. One where he could be whatever he was with Finn and be in glee club and on the football team and not care what anyone else thought.

Because really, after what had happened to his loved ones, how could anyone ragging on Puck for being whatever the fuck he was, hurt nearly as much as this did?

_Everybody hurts.  
No, no, no, no  
You are not alone._

* * *

**The End**

* * *

_Songs used:_

_"Ave Maria" – Franz Shubert_

_"Angel" – Sarah McLachlan_

_"Everybody Hurts" – R.E.M._

_A/N: I was kind of depressed when I wrote this, if you can't tell, but it's been really cathartic to write. I hoped you liked it. Also, the part about a mannequin standing in for Quinn's body was based on a real funeral I went to. In high school, one of my classmates and neighbors, who I'd known from kindergarten and was friends with off and on, died when the car she was in crashed into a pond. She drowned, and that can't have been pretty, but when I saw a dummy in her place, I just about flipped out. It was just so much sadder than if they'd had a closed casket, and I could have remembered her like she was the last time I'd seen her – alive._

_So, if you've read this one, please review! And please stop over at my older Puckurt, "Texts and Insanity" and give me a review so I can get that one up over the 300-review mark, which would be a first for me and stupendously awesome! _

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
